


emotional cannibalism

by confines



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dismemberment, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Murder (of OCs who aren't even technically people), Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mindfuckery in Regards to the Humanity of Hosts, Non-Consensual Bondage, Object Insertion (kinda lol), Prostate Massage, Purposeful Inducement of a Mental Breakdown, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Violence, the phrase 'don't call me billy', this is westworld after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9144031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confines/pseuds/confines
Summary: Before the Lady Godiva stunt, William has fun with Logan.Logan, meanwhile, does not have fun at all.





	

By the fifth day, Logan has lost the will to be disgusted or scared. It doesn't change anything other than maybe satisfying William in some sick way, so what's the point? And anyway, William is going to do what he wants to do with him— _to_ him—regardless of what Logan says or does so there's no point getting worked up over it. At least that's what he tries to remind himself when he wakes up naked and tied face down to a bed frame in what looks to be a farmhouse

He looks to his left and sees what must be the former homeowners, a middle-aged couple who look to have been methodically dismantled. Blood and metal innards and viscera mix together in the corner, making him fight down the bile creeping up his throat. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a long moment, repeating the mantra he'd developed for these situations: _They're not real people, this is just a game. They're not real people, this is just a game._

After he's calm enough that he doesn't think he'll throw up all over the bare mattress, he makes the unfortunate mistake of looking to his right. William's sitting in a chair that looks to have been handmade by one of the former occupants, ( _they're not real, they're not real_ ), covered in more blood than he's seen on him before. It's dried enough that it's flaking off of his forearms like mud cracks and flakes in a hot desert, covering so much skin that Logan can only assume he had at some point buried his arms inside one of the corpses ( _robots_ , his mind supplies numbly).

William looks like he's been sitting there for awhile. Logan wonders if he was tied to the bed before or after the murders ( _simulated violence_ ). The last thing he remembers is tripping on a tree root while being dragged around by the rope tied to William's horse, nearly biting his tongue off when his chin slammed into the ground, and abruptly deciding that walking was no longer worth the effort. Now he's in a position that has implications he's not ready to think about and William's... just sitting there.

He finally allows himself to look William in the face, figuring he might as well get it over with, and can't resist jolting against his restraints. William is staring right at him, focused in a way that Logan hasn't seen before, and he doesn't react to Logan's half-hearted attempts to free his wrists. To say his glare is predatory is an understatement, and Logan immediately averts his gaze.

After Logan's heartbeat has slowed enough that he can convince himself that he's not really having a heart attack, he looks back up, this time to the wall slightly to the right of William and asks, "What's going on?"

"You were tired, I figured a break would do you some good." William deadpans, his gaze still unwavering.

"Why did you undress me?" Logan regrets the words even before he's done uttering them, knowing that he's only expediting his own torture.

"Why do you think, Logan?" William questions, his lips becoming upturned at the edges with light amusement.

Mustering up courage he doesn't have, Logan bites the bullet and halfway joking, asks, "Are you gonna bad touch me, Billy?"

Like a cobra striking, William rises lithely from the chair and slaps Logan's face so hard it brings tears to his eyes immediately. He feels flecks of almost-dried blood stick to his face and his stomach roils, and he desperately thinks, _it's just synthetic blood, from synthetic people, it's not real._

"Don't call me Billy." William's voice cuts through his thoughts, cold and threatening from where he's reclaimed his seat. Logan closes his eyes, choosing blissful ignorance over terrified hyper-awareness.

When the pain's faded enough that tears no longer spill from his clenched eyes, Logan again looks at William and says weakly, "You didn't answer the question."

"You need bed rest and I need something warm to fuck. It's a match made in heaven, isn't it?" William's amusement has returned, a small smile tugging at his lips, and Logan hates himself for being more relieved by the lack of anger than upset by the sexual threat. He doesn't even entertain the idea that it's a joke, not after nearly a week spent watching William kill almost everything they come across.

"You can't come back from this, William." Logan says, trying to bargain. _Pleading_ , he thinks to himself. "Dad and Juliet will find out, there will be consequences. You can't do this."

"They would never believe you, Logan." William says slowly, like he's explaining to a child.

"Yes, they would. They're my family. I'm inheriting half the company and you're just... fucking EVP!" Logan sputters, feeling his face redden in anger.

"You're not inheriting any part of the company, Logan. They think you're a loose cannon. Sexual harassment suits left and right, you've done what? Three stints in rehab? And now you come back from vacation with rope burns and a few bruises, looking well-fucked which is half of why you come here, screaming about how I tortured you. Me. What was it you called me, non-threatening? They'll think you've lost your mind, and you know what?"

William quickly stands again, stepping forward and grabbing a fistful of his hair. He roughly yanks Logan's head back, leans so close his lips are pressed to Logan's ear, and whispers, "Maybe by the time I'm done with you, you will."

Logan feels his anger melt into terror and hears himself let out a long whine that he tries to cut off but can't. It's like William had cut open his head and plucked out all of his insecurities.

He hadn't been checked into rehab three times. It was five, his father growing more and more frustrated with every relapse. His sister was more upset about the slew of harassment lawsuits that were all quietly settled out of court. They hadn't talked about them directly, probably because they both knew the conversation couldn't go anywhere good. If she questioned his guilt he could either lie or anger her with the truth.

Logan knows they won't ever cut him out of the company completely, but he's been caught in so many lies over the years that he's not sure they'd believe him over William. He doesn't know what he'd do if they didn't, if his sister settled down with the man he'd accused of— He doesn't know what he'd do.

He's pulled back to the farmhouse by William finally letting go of his hair and allowing him to limply faceplant into the mattress. He startles when he hears the unbuckling of a belt behind him, not wanting to look but unable to stop himself.

William puts his gun and knife on the dresser next to the bed, inaccessible to Logan despite their closeness and hopefully only there as a threat. He mechanically pulls off his gore-streaked clothing, the clothes sticking slightly where the dried blood has formed an adhesive of sorts. He throws them all into a pile on the chair and Logan feels the dip of the mattress as William attempts to place himself between his tied legs.

Logan clenches his legs together as tightly as he can but after keeping pace with a horse for at least 3 of the last 5 days, he's not capable of much of a struggle. William forces a knee between his thighs and grabs his legs, wrenching them apart, and he desperately whimpers, "William, please. Please don't do this."

William either doesn't hear him or doesn't care to respond. He leans over the side of the bed and grabs a grimy pillow from the floor, and then reaches under Logan to put a flat palm against his belly. He lifts him, simultaneously shoving the pillow under his hips, and by the time Logan has figured out why it's too late to prevent the result. His back is arched slightly, perfectly presenting his ass to William, and with the pillow underneath him he can't squirm his way out of the position.

Logan pulls against the restraints around his wrists as hard as he can, not thinking about what will happen if he actually gets free, just knowing that it has to be better than this. But after a few seconds, William puts a hand between his shoulder blades, leaning all of his weight down on him, and says, "You can't escape. Accept it."

He goes limp, feeling blood streaming down his wrists from where days worth of rope burn has torn his skin, and wincing from the bruise he can already feel forming on his back. He flinches as he feels William's fingers tracing through the blood on his arms, and when he stops, Logan spends all of two seconds glad for the absence before he feels the same blood-covered fingers pressing against his entrance.

He sobs, quietly begging, "Please don't." and groans when William presses two of his fingers in at once. The blood is not enough to ease the way, and Logan's been fucked before but it's never felt anything like this.

When William has his fingers buried inside of him completely, he reaches up with his other hand and gathers more of the blood still streaming down Logan's arms. After slicking his fingers to his satisfaction, he jams his index finger beside the other two inside of Logan.

Logan yelps, pressing forwards into the pillow to escape the intrusion, but William only follows. The trembling of his hips, tired from days of over-exertion, swiftly forces him to give up. He feels one of the fingers withdraw and keens when it returns with another beside it.

With two of the fingers of both of his hands buried to the hilt inside of Logan, William slowly begins to spread his hands apart, and Logan feels like he's being ripped in half. _He's doing this purely because he enjoys seeing me in pain._ The thought had occurred to him several times in the past few days but in this context it's much more horrifying.

He finds himself muttering a breathless litany of "please, please, please, please," growing more and more desperate as William alternates between spreading him open and thrusting his individual fingers in and out.

"Please what?" William asks, and Logan can hear the smile in his voice.

"Please..." _STOP_ he wants to scream, but knows William won't at this point. "Please, fuck me." he says numbly. The faster this is over with the better, and his cock can't be worse than his fingers, it's just logical. He still feels hot tears cascading down his cheeks, more ashamed of himself than he's ever been before.

"So eager already?" William asks, leaning down to bite bruises into Logan's shoulder. "Say it louder. Beg me."

Logan sobs, "Please fuck me, William. Please, please fuck me."

For a long moment, William doesn't stop his fingers' movements and Logan feels more desperate pleas bubbling up his throat. But then he abruptly withdraws, and Logan hears him spit right before he feels the head of his cock forcing its way inside of him.

It is worse. It's bigger than the fingers were, and the feeling of William's cock thrusting in and out of him knocks the breath out of Logan, but at least there's an end in sight. He can't quiet himself, half-screams being forced out of him with every thrust forward, but at least it will be over soon.

William shifts, changing angle and deepening his thrusts, and Logan moans when he brushes against his prostate. He had hoped he would be spared this indignity, but it would seem William was intentionally saving it for last, his hips now repeatedly snapping forwards at just the right angle.

Logan feels himself harden, trying to focus on the pain to stave it off but it's not enough to outweigh biology. William's going to make him come, just to torture him. How had he not noticed that William was like this? How did he miss his brother-in-law being a sadistic fucking psychopath?

William continues his assault and Logan struggles against the mounting pleasure. He feels a hand force itself between his hips and the mattress and wrap around his cock. He wants to beg William to stop, but the futility of it makes him stifle the urge.

The hand tightens around him, jerking him off in sync with the cock thrusting into him. He moans, trying to muffle it with the mattress and judging by the laugh he hears from William, failing utterly. His cheeks burn with embarrassment.

William's hips start jerking more erratically against him and the hand around him speeds up, bringing Logan over the edge with a groan. William, who had been mostly quiet throughout, sinks his teeth into Logan's neck and moans deeply as he comes deep inside of him.

When he gets his breath back, Logan quietly requests, "Please untie me. I won't try to leave, please." because he can't stand to be on the mattress anymore.

William chuckles breathlessly as he slips his cock out of Logan, slapping his ass and getting up from the bed. "You're right, you won't try to leave. Because I'm leaving you here."

"What do you mean 'leaving me here'?" Logan asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He doesn't know what answer he wants. In the past five days, no staff members have shown up to save him from William's abuse. He's not sure they're even being surveilled anymore with how close to the edge of the park they are. _If he leaves me here, will I die tied to the bed my brother-in-law raped me in?_

"I guess you'll find out, won't you?" William teases with a grin, unknowingly answering his thoughts as well as his question. He re-holsters his gun and tucks his knife back in its sheath and then goes about putting his bloody clothes back on.

"Please don't leave me here, William, please." Logan finds that he's lost all faith in the park staff, all he knows is that it would look bad for William if he nonchalantly returned without him.

William walks over to the pile of dismembered corpses in the corner and carefully selects a hand that's been hacked off at the wrist. Logan watches as he returns to the bed with it and begins struggling, knowing that he doesn't want whatever is about to happen.

"Don't worry, Logan. You won't get lonely." William says and jams most of the fingers of the hand inside of him, the host's synthetic flesh not affected by rigor mortis and still sickeningly warm.

Logan starts screaming and doesn't stop until long after he's heard the sound of the front door slamming shut.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very self-indulgent fic written over the course of several sleepless hours because i couldn't stop picturing william making logan's life a living hell before stripping him and taking him for a pony ride to nowhere. my personal headcanon is that he kept him for at least two weeks before the horse scene, initially as revenge, but eventually just for shits and giggles after he realised there could be benefits to driving his brother-in-law mad. 
> 
> you can yell at me @ wholeneinyards.tumblr.com if you'd like


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